Ambrosia and Steel

What sounded like the squawk of a sea gull awakened him. He didn't realize he had dozed. He had dreamed of standing in the bow of an open boat, its prow gently dipping in the waves as he listened to the moans of billowy waves frothing against a sultry vanilla beach. Keen-eyed seabirds glided and swooped overhead.

Harry's eyes opened and met Daphne's shining and lucid, staring at him reflected in the mirror facing him. Standing in the doorway, she was looking down at him from somewhere to his left. The strikingly seductive mounds and slopes of her statuesque form were etched against a hazy glow from a curtained window. Her long, tapered fingers lounged lazily near in her dimpled navel. As she stood with legs apart, the sight of her lush carpet of scantily veiled pubic hairs pulled his attention away from the blazing blush of shimmering scarlet bulb, glowing on her flushed face.

Daphne measured five feet four inches in her bare feet. Harry stood at five feet nine. Her gaze shifted to the band of his wrinkled gray under shorts, where she had left them, lowered well below his loins, when she slipped away from their basement retreat. She stared where his shriveled, waxy, semen-stained penis hung limply. Quite a contrast, she thought, to the stout pole from which she had earlier extracted such exquisite pleasure. .

A moment of modesty urged Harry to shield his nakedness, and find some cover against the sharp chill of his confinement. He was stopped in that attempt by the tug of restraints at his wrists. They were securely tethered to a steel beam of the dusky basement ceiling. A thrill made him shiver as he recalled the ardor with which she had drained the last modicum of molten lava from his gorged volcanic spout. Her exquisite ministrations had driven him to shameless roars and unavoidable tears.

Now, he tried to shift his feet, but cuffs at his ankles prevented that. Memory returned of his utter bondage. He was helplessly harnessed. And exposed. She looked down at him, and he looked at her through the mirror as awareness of his total dependence on her overwhelmed him.

Twin bright gleams darting from Daphne's iridescent eyes lazered the cue of her increasing arousal. Her stare took his measure in the mirror. She smiled mysteriously, crossed her hands at her waist to take firm hold of the hem of the pink gauzy magenta shift she had thrown on. She slowly lifted and casually discarded it, kicking the crumpled bundle away from her bare feet. She stood shimmering in her nakedness, in the soft glowing red light. Her gorgeous pubic hairs sent throbs of lust through him.

Like a vamp, still standing in the doorway and never shifting her look from his; she again spread her hirsute thighs.

With long, strong, alabaster hands, she cupped gorgeous marble breasts, and used her index fingers and thumbs to squeeze her plump, plum- colored nipples. Straining movements of her head and neck brought each in turn to her lips for kitten-like licks. He drank in the exhibit, unable to do anything but watch, and feel his liberated dong spring to an uninhibited perpendicular. With an adept coyness, she released her breasts and snaked her hands downward from her gorged nipples to her bulging, tufted mound, swelling at the juncture of her smooth sculptured thighs.

Daphne swiveled her hips with each step of her descent down the stairs, then did a prize-winning promenade of several steps into the room. Her perfume, reminiscent of fresh flowers, rode airwaves to his nostrils to further tantalize his senses with her elegance.

Much closer now, and still holding his gaze, she again planted her feet apart, and sent two long slender fingers of her left hand to spread her pussy lips apart until her rosy pink inner self was clearly displayed. She slipped the long middle finger of her right hand deep into her carpeted love tunnel and began to slide the shiny wet digit in slow strokes along the entire length of her clitoral shaft. Her head was thrown back with eyes partly closed while her lips tensed across her bared pearly white teeth. She plunged deeper, her breath released in ragged shards of controlled exhalation. She arched her back, stood on tiptoes, shoved her pelvis far forward, and gargled sounds of intense excitement. Then she stopped the show, reined in her breathing, and glided to him. She stood on a hassock and placed her wet slippery finger between his lips. He licked the finger and groaned. She stepped down from the hassock and padded to a table against the far wall before him.

She picked up a large, brown vibrator, hefted it, as if gauging its size and weight against her knowledge of his admired and beloved tool, then switched it on to a low whining speed. She turned so he could fully see her action, and plunged the stout shaft deep in her hairy crevice. For heart stopping moments, he watched as she wantonly rode the dildo. Daphne writhed and whimpered then withdrew the toy from her cunt with an abruptness that made her body shudder. A long thin stream of crystal clear fluid trailed the vibrator's exit. She hoisted the wet, slippery object to her mouth and licked it like an ice cream cone. She licked it with delight. Then, with a wistful look, she withdrew the gadget and sank its full length into a glass of ambrosia resting on the table. She pulled out the instrument and brought it to Harry.

"You loved what I served you earlier," she said, "you'll love this more." She pushed the dripping pleasure toy between his lips. Harry took it in and sucked the cock-like instrument. Its stimulant-coated goodness sharpened his arousal and his sense of the surreal. He would never knowingly suck a cock.

In, and out, she slowly worked the artificial organ, now thrusting in as deep as possible; now withdrawing to tease the tip of his longing lips. She made several trips to the tumbler and served him the potent liquor. Her chest heaved as her breath came in shallow throbs while her free hand wandered over him in tantalizing caresses. She tweaked his nipples and drew long light scratch lines across his chest and belly. She was clearly as excited in stimulating him as he was in enjoying her gifts. He was glad that the basement was sound proofed, and the house separated by wide acreage from the nearest neighbors. Their earlier fits of throaty groans, and yells would certainly have brought curious or concerned persons questing for the source of such lurid sounds.

Daphne laid the sweetly torturing toy aside. Always spontaneous and creative, she stood on the hassock and faced him at eye level. Harry wondered what would be the next act to be conjured by her elfish mind. Her trembling legs were apart, hairy bush awash with glistening, dripping juices, and brushing leathery strokes against his thighs. Mercifully, she took his rigid spigot in hand near the bulbous head and stroked it slowly up and down the length of her clitoral shaft. She sighed, hiccuped and writhed, resting her head against his chest. Their merged juices formed a single flood flowing down her hands and his legs. The intensity of her demanding strokes grew. Harry wondered how long she could hold out before exploding. Or to how much more of her teasing torture would he be treated before being allowed release.

He sagged in resignation to his harness. His knees trembled with every effort to remain upright. How long had he been suspended? Time seemed so irrelevant now. Daphne was having fun. He was expected to enjoy her excursions, in retaliation for the arduous bondage antics she had endured from him. For her, it was wistful payback for her earlier agonizing thrills at his hand; and a demonstration of her own hoard of secretly held fetishes as well.

"You never told me you were into bondage." She had said over dinner.

"You never asked." He chuckled impishly. Then he had confessed that he had never been into BDSM, but had read up on the subject after he promised to come prepared to pleasure her. The rest was the product of his own fertile imagination. Having acquired the accoutrements, it was only fair to ponder how to implement them as best he could.

"You could have fooled me, Buster," she miffed. You played the role of a real dominator to me. You had me convinced you were a master. But just you wait; I'll make you suffer for that. You'll earn every ounce of that prime rib I fixed you." She had said, smiling mysteriously.

Now, he shifted his stare to look down at the place on the carpet where a crystal stream spewed from his pulsing, searing cock, to widen the spreading dark spot at their feet. Daphne's eyes dilated as they followed his gaze. Her rosy tongue flicked across her cherry-red lips and she ceased caressing him.

With careful steps, she descended the stool and began to stroll around Harry. Her blazing body moved sinuously with feline caresses as she cruised around him. She used her warm smooth fleshy curves to fawn his body. With slow caresses, her hands trailed down his chest, back, and belly. She teased sensual fingernail scratches on his midriff and sides, and tormented him with delicious nibbles of his hardened muscles.

Her next move was to snap her head forward, flinging her long, fragrant hair over his shoulder and guide the perfumed tresses as they streamed gently down his skin, ending with a smooth, teasing hair massage of his aching rod. She teased him skin from ears to elbow and from eyes to thighs with searing licks, nips, and sucks, pausing on occasion to swallow fluids secreted from his mouth and loins. She played with his cock; gripping it firmly and sliding experienced fingers gently, again and again along the length and tip of its leaky shaft. She bent to rub his hot rod against her cool cheeks and bury it between the cleft of her soft breasts. Then, without breaking contact, she traversed his entire body with hers, circling him, and employing her long hair like a delicate silk shawl to touch his every nerve and arouse him to peaks of exquisite longing. .

Their joined body smells mixed with her special body oils and unguents to drive him to extremes of frenzied lust. His body ached. He groaned. Her torture became unbearable. He reasoned that in his practice of foreplay with her, he had held her in momentary suspense and lifted her to heights of excitement, but he always thoughtfully took pleasure in bringing her release. What Daphne was doing to him now was far more sadistic and in excess of anything he ever conjured to please her. She was unfair. It was she who had agreed to "within limits", when they discussed indulgence in BDSM.

His desires for the seductive woman became a scorching fire. His need for release ballooned, boiled, bubbled, and sizzled. He was a seething cauldron, yearning to taste her, hold her, touch her, and fuck her. His eyes smarted with tears in frustrated need to drive his fevered piston deep into her oiled, frothy, cylinder, to assault her mouth with tongue and cock. He ached for her heavenly furnace to engulf his blazing fire, inexorably pushing him beyond the edge of her precipice; dragging him tumbling joyously into the blissful, yawning vortex of her foaming body. His bowels churned; his tongue drooled; his lips quivered; his arms and feet ached. He farted in delirium, losing partial control of his bowels. His stomach muscles convulsed violently.

Once again she expelled his molten rod from her teasing mouth and constricting throat, freeing the frustrated organ to flutter like a hooked trout floundering on some sultry riverbank. He wanted to beg for release, no matter how meager.

"I'll pay you any price you name," his mind screamed, "I'll give you five hundred dollars just to make me cum. Just to bust my balls, please!"

But he had promised to abide by her wishes when they discussed the plans. Now, his masculinity resisted his strong need to plead for mercy. When he yielded to her wiles, emitting alien groans of victimized resignation to her hellcat extremes of torture, he knew he could never treat her the way she now treated him. He had totally underestimated her veiled foreboding when she said, ""Be careful what you ask for, you may get more than you can possibly imagine." How could he have known he was dealing with a sorceress straight from the nether reaches of hell? I know I never would have treated her like this, he miffed. Ineffable sounds surfaced from far beyond his control, from the utter depths of his being. In delirium, his thoughts drifted to how it all started.

It began in their conversation after dinner. They were cuddling and touching each other intimately when she asked

"Have you ever fantasized about a woman pleasuring you?"

Her question took him by surprise. He had always derived maximum pleasure by carefully anticipating and meeting the sexual needs of his partner. As a man, it was his duty, he thought, to find and excite his woman's every erogenous zone, bringing her joys in bed that exceed what she would normally expect. He prided himself on being sensitive to what women were said to desire. He could kiss, lick, massage, nibble; suck, deliver caresses to pelvic mound and tender inner and outer pussy lips. He enjoyed sucking toes and fingers, pulling hairs, and deep kissing partnered tongues. He was adept at using sex toys to thrill. He had been expert enough to always elicit satisfying moans, squeaks, and squawks of pleasure, and pleading for recess from sweet torment. He had the reputation for never letting up in his devices until he drained his love partner dry of every stored sexual desire. As for fucking, there had never ever been a complaint about his prowess at using his lovely tool. More than one appreciative woman had said, "You have a lovely cock," To which he had always mumbled a non-committal, "Thank You". He had felt very proud of Daphne's multi-orgasmic responses to his attention and endearments, and could not imagine leaving anything undone in demonstrating his skills as a caring, romantic, and sensitive lover.

But now he seemed to have encountered a different sort of mate. He was being dealt tit for tat and being challenged to push the envelope of his capacity for enduring romantic pleasure to a level that he had never imagined. Just as she had said.

"Truthfully, no," he had said, "I have always been more attuned to pleasing my partner. It never occurred to me that my partner would be pleased while taking the lead in giving pleasure to me. "

"I see." she said, "so because other women have been passive, you think all are the same, right?"

"Not really, it's just that my fantasies have always been limited to my showing that I am a manly man who can satisfy my lady. To pleasure you fully, has always been enough mutuality for me. You know I always satisfy myself thoroughly after you have been satisfied."

"Harry, in the same way that you derive pleasure from pleasing your partner, can't you imagine that there are women who also delight in giving pleasure. There may even be those who are more gratified by giving than receiving."

Her words caught him off guard. They seemed so contrary to the woman he came to know and love. Daphne had seemed a demure woman, of diminutive stature and winsome ways; with a smile that illuminates the darkest space, and thrills the heart of the gruffest curmudgeon. Her manner had always been reserved. Almost ladylike, until she became sexually aroused. He had no idea of the larger world revolving inside her. In their cyber intimacies, she was always the consummate and passionate responder. Although on occasion she would initiate play, or tease, she would await his initiative for further action. Now, her comments intrigued him.

"So, what do you propose?" He had asked.

"Let me be for you, what you have been for me. Let me take you to my secret

place and have you at my disposal just as you had me earlier today."

He was surprised by the powerful thrills that had surged through him. The simplicity with which she stated her case made her offer the more fantastic. It erased any reluctance on his part, and he felt he could trust her as she had trusted him. He shivered, feeling warm and nervously excited.

"That's only fair," he had said.

So, they discussed details.

"And where is this secret place you mention?"

"Downstairs. In my basement. It's intimate, and well suited to pleasuring."

"And you promise to subject me to no questionable act that could cause injury."

"I pledge to do unto you, just as you did to me. To give you more excitement and pleasure than you have ever had in your life, within the bounds of affection, respect, and passionate demonstration of my love for you and appreciation for your body and sexual appetites."

He looked deeply into her eyes and she returned his gaze with open frankness.

"OK, I'll go with you. I admit to being very excited at the thought of being loved totally by a woman."

"I visited her as a guest," he thought now, " and that's how I wind up in her basement. Manacled, shackled, and totally at her mercy, his body on fire in extreme desires for sexual release.

They had cleared the diner table and washed and put away the plates and utensils.

Then she had excused herself.

"Let me get comfortable, OK, I'll be back in a few minutes."

She had returned, dressed in lovely green and yellow floor length attire. Her hair was done up in a bun, secured by a long oriental bamboo needle, like a chopstick. She had greeted him with a chaste kiss on the cheek, handed him a chilled glass of champagne, then taken him by the hand and led me down the dim carpeted steps to the basement. She had stood close to him and seductively freed her hair by pulling out the needle. She knew how susceptible he was to her lavender perfume, and the magic of its fragrance spun a spell that weakened the last of his already wavering reserve.

She shook herself out of her dress, revealing lovely, laced, pink silk panties with matching bra. A sultry animal magnetism merged with her perfume to charge the dim space between them. With the demure femininity that typified her, she sweetly lifted the glass of champagne from his hand and sipped, then lifted it to his lips. He sipped, and then she turned and placed the glass on a table against a wall. She returned and sat on a hassock placed in the middle of the room and looked up at me.

"OK, let's review the drill. No matter what you hear, feel, smell, or taste, you are to trust me completely. Is that what we agreed?"

"Yes, but why must you sound so mysterious?"

"Because you have been so used to being in control that you have never developed the ability to truly sense your surroundings from a passive standpoint. That's what I desire for you.

"I see, so, what are you going to do to me?"

"I'll blindfold you, secure your hands and feet to restrict your movement, and

then, I'll have my way with you."

"Daphne, I have only one question. Have you done this with anyone else?"

"Harry, just as you admitted this evening that you had never administered dominance to any woman before me. I now admit that I have wanted to give you pleasure as a way of experiencing the fulfillment of sharing in all of its fullness. You have been my teacher. Let me show you the student you have created. You have given much. I want to repay in kind as much as I can. I will merely embellish, enhance, and transfer what you have given me. Is that a fair answer?"

"I can live with that answer, for now."

" Fine. Any more questions?"

"None. Do you have anything else to say?"

"Just this. I pledge never to inflict any pain or perform any degrading or hurtful act with you. You must know that I love you devotedly, and respect you completely. Now, I'm ready, are you?"

"Ready," Harry said.

She stood and closed the space between them. Her exotic lavender perfume hypnotized him as with supple hands, and the casualness of a trained geisha girl, she removed and neatly folded every piece of his clothing, including shoes and socks, but excluding his boxer shorts.